


A Marriage of Convenience

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Because we're all just huge Shakespeare nerds, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romeo and Juliet Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4516752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just like the "Romeo and Juliet" you know and love... except it's not. At all.</p>
<p>This one's more of a rom-com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One, Scene One

_Two households, both alike in dignity_  
_In fair Verona, where we lay our scene_  
_From ancient grudge break to new mutiny_  
_The cause of civil cunning yet unseen_  
_From forth the fatal loins of these two foes_  
_A pair of lovers scheme to fool their kin_  
_Whose misadventures, friends, and overthrows_  
_Are that which thou shalt hear about within_  
_The passage of theirs and their dear friends' love_  
_Which, hidden from their parents' ceaseless rage_  
_'Tis comedy itself sent from above_  
_And now the two hours' traffic of our stage_  
_That which, if you with patient ears attend_  
_What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend_

ACT ONE, SCENE ONE

"Okay, so get this," Benvolio said, poking Romeo in the ribs.

Romeo rolled over on the bed, eyes squeezed shut. "I don't wanna 'get this,' Ben," he moaned. "Didn't you hear? The Prince caught my dad and his buddies fighting some of the Capulets in the middle of the sidewalk, and he said if it happens again, they're all going to jail."

"So?" Benvolio asked. "This happens, like, all the time, man. You've been a Montague for sixteen years now, you should know. I mean, I wish as much as you do that everybody would just stop fighting, but it's not like this isn't normal."

"So, how embarrassing is that? Rosaline isn't gonna want to date a guy whose dad is in jail."

Benvolio rolled his eyes. He would never say so to Romeo - Benvolio would never upset the peace to save his life- but he was so sick of hearing about Rosaline. The girl was scary religious, and her birthday present that year was joining a convent. Seriously. The whole family was like that - not something Benvolio wanted to get involved with, that was for sure. And yet Romeo was obsessed with her. It was starting to get a little creepy, actually. Liking all her pictures on Instagram, following her on Twitter even though she hadn't posted anything in six months. Romeo was getting to be full-blown stalker level. Benvolio hadn't had the heart to tell his friend that Rosaline was never gonna reply to his texts: the convent she joined didn't allow phones.

Romeo opened his eyes and moaned hopelessly again, snapping Benvolio out of his mental anti-Rosaline rant. Benvolio scrutinized his best friend, looking for some sign that everything was gonna be okay. Romeo's bed was a mess, but not as much of a mess as his hair. He was wearing a black hoodie, black jeans, and neon purple socks, all of which looked like they hadn't been washed in days. A pen stuck out of Romeo's jeans pocket, and there were sad song lyrics written in black ink all over his hands.

"Bro, can I be honest with you for a second?" Benvolio asked.

Romeo nodded. "Nothing can hurt me anymore."

"You're a mess. Look, what you really need is to get over Rosaline."

"But she's the love of my life!" Romeo sat up and gave Benvolio his best puppy-dog eyes. "Come on, Ben. I love her!"

"You said that about Beatrice two weeks ago, and Miranda before that, and before that it was Katharine, and-"

"Shut up, man."

Benvolio laughed and pulled out his phone. "Look, all I'm saying is that it might do you some good to try and move on. I'm calling Mercutio."

"Oh, now who's the one in love?" Romeo said, sounding a little less melodramatic than usual.

"There's the Romeo I know and tolerate. And would you stop saying that? Mercutio and I aren't even a thing. I'm just calling him because he'll know how to cheer you up."

Romeo dropped back onto the bed with a sigh. "Ben, nothing can cheer me up except Rosaline. She's just so... beautiful, you know? She doesn't even use filters on her photos on Insta. But I mean... she doesn't have to. She's so beautiful." As if that reminded him of something, he pulled the pen out of his pocket, pushed up his sleeve, and started scrawling another sad lyric on his forearm.

"I hate to break it to you, bro, but her profile picture is very, very photoshopped."

Romeo didn't even bother to respond to that one. He just checked his phone for what must have been the trillionth time. Benvolio sighed. Maybe he was being too hard on his friend. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Romeo. "Look, man, I know you love her. But I think I can help. We'll see what Mercutio's got up his sleeve. But if all else fails, we can just go check out girls together - well, you can check out girls, anyway, but I'll be there. I guarantee we can find someone prettier than Rosaline - like, she's a swan to you right now, but we will find you someone so pretty, it'll make Rosaline look like a crow. Or something."

Romeo looked at Benvolio over his shoulder. "You're weird, Ben."

"I know." Benvolio's phone buzzed in his pocket just then. "Ooh, awesome! Merc texted me back." Benvolio took a moment to read the text. The further along he got, the more his brow furrowed. His grin slowly turned into a frown. "I dunno if this is a good idea..."

Romeo snatched the phone out of his hands. "Lemme see that." He skimmed the text quickly and tossed the phone back to Benvolio, who barely caught it before it hit him in the face. "Dude, I don't see what's so bad about that," Romeo said. "Mercutio got invited to a party and he's taking us with him. Sounds like fun... not that I want to go or anything."

"You didn't read the rest of the text, did you?" Benvolio asked, face still frozen in a worried frown. "That party's being hosted by the Capulets."


	2. Act One, Scene Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio rambles sometimes.
> 
> ...A lot of times.

ACT ONE, SCENE TWO

"Wait," Romeo said. "How did Mercutio even get invited to a Capulet party?"

"He's got connections, man. Besides, it's not like he's one of us. He's related to the Prince, remember? Cousin's son, or something. Dude has Mercutio in his will - he's gonna be _loaded_ when Escalus finally croaks. Seriously, how did you forget all of this? The three of us have been friends for... how long, now?"

Romeo shrugged. "I don't pay attention to whose will my friends are mentioned in. Too morbid for me."

"Nothing is too morbid for you, Mr. I'd-Kill-Myself-For-Love."

"Touche. So are we going to this party or not? Because I'm just as happy staying here."

Benvolio sighed. He really didn't want any part of a Capulet party. Of course it was sure to be elaborate, if the outside of Lord Capulet's apartment building was anything to go by. Unlike the glassy, mirrored towers surrounding, the Capulets' building was done up in a lavish Rococo style, with delicate golden bars curling up alongside the windows and a skinny balcony on every floor. The outside was painted white and kept impossibly clean. The only way in or out, aside from the windows, was the huge set of double doors at the front of the building, doors set with massive arching pieces of bubbled glass and curved, claw-like gold handles. And the Capulets owned and lived in the whole building.

If they got caught, Montagues in the Capulet building, they were screwed.

"Maybe not..." Benvolio said hesitantly. "I mean-"

He didn't get to tell Romeo what he meant. There was a loud, annoying banging on the front door that they could hear even from Romeo's room. Faintly, Mercutio's voice drifted to them, whooping something along the lines of "Let's party!"

"How does he always get here so fast?" Romeo muttered.

"I wish I knew," Benvolio replied, sounding completely resigned to their fate. Romeo, suddenly remembering that he was in a state of utter despair, rolled back over on the bed and groaned, leaving Benvolio to go let Mercutio into the apartment.

"So, boys," Mercutio said with a wild grin. "You ready to party like it's 1594? Or possibly 1595, I'm not sure."

"Dude, do you even think about what you're saying before it comes out of your mouth?" Benvolio groaned.

"Nope."

It was a few minutes later. He'd managed to herd Romeo into a slightly more faded black hoodie that could almost pass for blue in really poor lighting, and with a lot of tugging and promises of treating the whole gang to pizza later on, Mercutio had finally persuaded Romeo and Benvolio outdoors. They were strolling along the sidewalk on the way to the Capulets' when Romeo stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Guys, I've got a really bad feeling about this," Romeo said. "I had a really bad dream last night, and I'm pretty sure it was something like this. Probably."

"Right, cuz you can see the future now," Mercutio said, voice laced with all the snark he possessed. "Next you'll be telling me your fate's been dictated by the stars or something. Well, I had a dream last night too."

"What was it?"

Mercutio punched Romeo in the shoulder gently (though gentle for Mercutio was still pretty hard). "I dreamt that you're a big fat liar."

Romeo punched Mercutio back, much harder this time (though a hard punch for Romeo was pretty gentle). "Yeah," he said, "lying in bed. Dreaming that this is a bad idea."

Mercutio grinned and ruffled Romeo's hair. "Looks like you got a visit from the dream fairy then, my friend."

Benvolio rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

"Her name's Queen Mab."

"Mab?"

"Yeah, it's old-timey slang for whore. She got the short end of the stick there. Anyway, she's this itty-bitty fairy chick that flies around in an empty hazelnut, with little wagon wheels made of spiders' legs. It's pretty deluxe. Anyway, she flies around bringing dreams every night. Y'know, flies through the brain of a lover and he dreams of love..." Here he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Romeo. "...Or, y'know, she'll fly over some chick's lips and she'll dream about kisses."

Something in Mercutio's face changed. His eyes narrowed, the grin that had been slowly slipping from his lips finally made it to the ground, and his dark eyebrows lowered just a bit. The evening cast shadows around his eyes and beneath his chin. Romeo didn't notice it yet, but Benvolio winced. He knew they were in for a hurricane, and it was too late to stop it.

"And sometimes," Mercutio said, starting to pace on the sidewalk, "she'll drive that little hazelnut over a soldier's neck, and he'll dream of cutting people's throats. He'll dream of war, and death, and the sound of drums, and when he wakes up scared, it's all Mab's fault. She'll bring nightmares, and plagues, and-"

Mercutio was whipping himself into a fury. Benvolio and Romeo exchanged a panicked glance, looking for all the world like spooked deer about to bolt. Benvolio laid a hand on Mercutio's arm, which seemed to give him momentary pause. 

"Hey, man, it's okay," Romeo said. "She's fake, man. It's alright. You can chill out now."

The tension in Mercutio's shoulders eased, and he slumped. "I got pissed again, didn't I?"

Nods from his friends. Benvolio gave Mercutio a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Let's just get to the party, alright?"

"Or we could, y'know, not," Romeo added unhelpfully.

Mercutio seemed to brighten up again, though his smile didn't look quite as genuine as it did just moments before. "What are we doing just standing here?" he asked. "Move your asses, boys, it's gonna be morning before we get to that party."

The Capulet building glowed. That was the only way to describe it. Golden light was pouring through every window, every crack under every door, every chink between the walls. It had to be candlelight, the color and flicker of it.

"That's got to be a fire hazard," Benvolio murmured as the three friends stood on the sidewalk, struck by how beautiful an apartment building could look.

Outside was a massive basket that looked big enough to climb into comfortably. It was half-full of Mardi Gras-style masks in varying colors, shapes, and sizes. A paper sign was scotch-taped to the outside of the basket, reading "take one." Gladly, Benvolio and Romeo did, though Mercutio refused. "I'm your ticket in," he explained with a smile that looked almost like himself again. "They've gotta recognize me."

Inside, Capulet himself was greeting the guests while Mrs. Capulet took turns about the room in a shockingly revealing costume. Most of the Capulets had first names that people had heard of, but to the knowledge of the outside world, those two were just Capulet and Mrs. Capulet. Some of the more sordid rumors, told in dark bars with neon signs in the windows, all of them far, far away from the Capulet building, said that Capulet and Mrs. Capulet, those patriarchs of the family, had both slept with just about every member of the extended family (except each other, of course) that they could legally get away with. And they were a family that could legally get away with quite a lot.

Fortunately, nobody had ever bothered to inform them of the rumors, and anyway they were largely thought to be false. Mostly false, at least.

"Come in, come in!" Capulet boomed. He seemed to be getting louder with every swig of his champagne, and the splash marks on the front of his well-tailored shirt suggested that this was one of many, many swigs of champagne.

Mercutio and Benvolio thanked Capulet for hosting the party, which he waved off genially. "Give me no thanks until you go enjoy yourselves! Oh, it has been _way_ too long since I've been at a party like this one," he slurred.

 The DJ was playing some sugary pop song that had been number two on the Hot 100 for six weeks straight, and the three friends were quickly separated by the swirling colors of the dancing crowd.

"Now where the hell could they have gone?" Romeo muttered. He glanced around for his friends, already wanting to be back home with his shades closed. He didn't see Mercutio or Benvolio anywhere.

But he saw someone else.

 


	3. Act One, Scene Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This can't end well.

ACT ONE, SCENE THREE

Tybalt swore under his breath. This was unusual for Tybalt - not the swearing so much as the fact that he wasn't swearing at the top of his lungs. But he suspected that swearing too loudly would draw unwanted attention to the murder he was almost definitely about to commit.

"Hey," he said, elbowing his friend. (Friend was a term one used lightly when describing the people he knew. They were acquaintances at best, bound together by just the right mixture of admiration and fear on everyone else's part and grudging tolerance from Tybalt.)

"Yeah?" asked his friend.

"That's a Montague," Tybalt said through gritted teeth, gesturing in the direction of a masked Romeo. "I know his voice. He's crashing the party! I'll fucking kill him."

"Uh, don't you think that's a little-"

"You heard me!"

Tybalt's friend shied away from him, and he sighed, a quick exhale through his nose. Tybalt decided he could get this over with more quickly if he just let his uncle know that there was a Montague crashing the soiree of the century. Capulet would kick him out on his ass quicker than you could say "bitter gall." The only problem with this plan was that Tybalt's uncle was very, very drunk.

"Uncle," Tybalt hissed. "There's a Montague here. I'm going to kill him."

"Why? It's a partaaaay," slurred Capulet. "Can't you just... like... put up with him?"

"He's  _crashing_ our  _party_ ," Tybalt repeated, more slowly this time, still seething just under the surface. To his surprise, Capulet grabbed him by his shirt collar and bared his teeth in a drunken growl.

"Now you listen here," Capulet said, raising his voice. "You're gonna put up with him, kid. I'm not gonna have you fucking up my party." The slurring ruined the effect somewhat, but still, Capulet could be awfully intimidating. Tybalt often forgot he wasn't the only one in the family with a temper.

"Fine, Uncle," he said. "But as soon as this goddamn party's over, all bets are off."

"Are we betting on something?" Capulet mumbled. "I've got money to burn!"

Tybalt rolled his eyes and stalked off.

Romeo, meanwhile, was running through every metaphor he could think of in his head. He pushed up his sleeves, scanned the smudged ink there for a line of poetry or music that would accurately sum this up. Nothing. Glancing across the room, afraid to take his eyes off of the sight before him for even a second, he shoved his sleeves down again. Romeo did another mental metaphor check, came up short.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath, and that came the closest so far.

She was radiant. Her hair, her dress, her shoes, her jewelry, her eyes - everything sparkled and played catch-and-release with the candlelight like she was made of glass and diamonds. If what she was doing right now was any indication, she couldn't dance to save her life, but that didn't matter in the slightest. She spun and her hair flew out in a curtain - or rather, something more like a halo - around her face, and when she grinned, Romeo swore he almost fainted.

 _Ben was right,_ he thought dizzily.  _Like a swan among crows. Or something._

The song ended, and the DJ put on some slow, obscure thing. People began to notice the tempo change and paired off or left the dance floor. Romeo snapped into action, shoving his way through the crowd to get to her. Some people snapped at him or even pushed back, and someone spilled champagne all over his shoes, but he was one hundred percent past caring. She had her back turned, was edging off the dance floor, didn't see him coming.

"Hey," Romeo murmured, suddenly feeling rather shy. She whirled around, her hair doing the halo thing again. She was even better up close.

"Hey," she replied.

"I, uh..." He had no idea what to say.  _I'm an idiot,_ he thought.  _What the hell am I supposed to say to this gorgeous girl?_

She smiled at him, waiting patiently for whatever came out of his mouth next.

"If I kiss your hand, will you be mad at me?"

_Yep. I am an idiot._

She giggled. "Not necessarily."

He kissed the back of her hand. She kissed him on the cheek. They danced together, and even when the slow song ended and an upbeat, poppy number came on, they kept dancing to a tempo only they could hear.

Romeo kissed her. Slow and long and deep. She kissed him back. And when they parted, she kissed him again. She was the most beautiful girl Romeo had ever seen, and boy, had he seen a lot of girls.

"You kiss by the book," she told him. This girl winked, and before Romeo had time to react, she was pulling him away from the dance floor into a corridor he hadn't noticed before, kissing him all the while. Romeo was out of his depth. He needed time to get his bearings.

Luckily, he received just that. The corridor was already occupied by a couple who seemed to have the same idea. Upon closer inspection, Romeo realized he recognized both halves of the pair. "Dude," he said, startled. "I thought you two weren't a thing."

Mercutio broke away from Benvolio and shrugged. "We weren't," he said.

Romeo sighed. "Guess we'll have to get another hallway," he said. The girl giggled.

"This building has quite a lot of hallways," she replied with a knowing smile. Romeo tried, one last time, for a proper metaphor. She burned brighter than the torches on the walls. She sparkled like an emerald hanging in the ear of a beautiful woman, but better. Nothing worked. He resorted to swearing in his head again.

The bellowed voice of a very drunk Capulet swept over the party. The cops were coming, and the Prince with them. The neighbors had complained, and everybody had to get out, NOW. The "now" was said in all capital letters.

Romeo turned to the girl, panicked. "Can I... will I see you again? What's your number?"

She shakes her head. "Don't have a phone. I'll be here later, though. I'm here an awful lot." She gave him an enigmatic smile before pushing him gently toward the door. The crowd did the rest of the work, sweeping him away from her for good.

Juliet watched him move toward the door and sighed. He was cute. Really cute.

"What are you sighing about, little one?" asked a voice beside her. Her Nurse-with-a-capital-N, more of a mother to Juliet than her mother was. She'd been around since Jule was born, and she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

"Who's that boy, Nurse?" Juliet asked, indicating him in the crowd.

The Nurse shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know."

"Well, could you go ask?" Juliet requested, giving the Nurse her best puppy-dog eyes. "Pretty please?"

Romeo stood on the sidewalk, laughing and joking with Mercutio and Benvolio, who refused to tell him exactly what had led up to the Hallway Incident at the party. Currently, he was describing his encounter with the world's most beautiful girl.

"So then she goes, 'I'll be here later, though. I'm here an awful lot.' What do you think that meant?"

"Uh, Romeo," Benvolio starts to say. Mercutio snickers.

Suddenly, a harried old woman totters up to them. "You, boy," she says, pointing at Romeo. "What's your name?"

"Romeo Montague, ma'am," he replies politely. "Hey, this might be a weird question, but do you know this girl I was dancing with at the party? About yea tall, dark hair, dark eyes, super gorgeous, terrible dancer?"

The woman nods. "I am her nurse. Her name is Juliet. She's the daughter of the man who hosted this party. Which  _you_ should not have been at."

Romeo glances at his friends, who both nod. They bolt.

The police had not showed up. Juliet sat on the floor in nothing but a slip, party dress in a heap on the floor beside her. It was too tight and too hot. There were empty beer bottles reflecting the burned-down candlelight in a thousand fractals all around her. Spilled alcohol made everything sticky. Dirt and perfume clung to her skin, and memories clung to her mind. She jumped to her feet when the Nurse bustled back in.

"Oh, Nurse, please tell me his name," Juliet begged, puppy-dog eyes back in full force.

The Nurse shook her head. "Forget about him."

"I can't! He was... beautiful. And kind to me. And really, really hot."

"Forget it."

"Nurse, please. C'mon. You can tell me, you know that. It's times like this when I really wish I owned a cell phone." She says the last part offhandedly to herself. Things would be so much better right now if she could just text this guy. Cell phones don't withhold information.

"Fine," the Nurse said, "but only because I love you so much. His name's Romeo."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Romeo Montague."

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by a post on Tumblr, so a big thanks to Tumblr user nanyoky!
> 
> That aside, feedback is really important to me, so comments are hugely appreciated. Thanks!


End file.
